


smart boy

by youngerdrgrey



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: 30 x 31 Writing Challenge, F/M, Season/Series 03, fck the s3 winter finale, just gonna tag that every time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 10:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9486710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngerdrgrey/pseuds/youngerdrgrey
Summary: Wes twists the handles on his bike. Turns them in barely shaking fingers that crack with the chill in the night air. Honestly, he shouldn't even be waiting outside; he has a key to the house at this point, but maybe he wanted to be outside when she got back. Wanted her to miss him on first glance and stumble in her step once she realized who'd parked himself on her porch. For whatever reason, he waits outside, and she hoists her bag tighter to cover up her misstep./prompt:"There's something I need to tell you"





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for day 22 of the 30 x 31 writing challenge
> 
> \+ negative use of the word ‘crazy’  
> \+ mentions of W/aurel

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Wes twists the handles on his bike. Turns them in barely shaking fingers that crack with the chill in the night air. Honestly, he shouldn't even be waiting outside; he has a key to the house at this point, but maybe he wanted to be outside when she got back. Wanted her to miss him on first glance and stumble in her step once she realized who'd parked himself on her porch. For whatever reason, he waits outside, and she hoists her bag tighter to cover up her misstep.

"Wes?" She hits the lock for her car again. "Is something wrong?" Who'd they kill this time?

He shakes his head. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I just...." He swallows down his other words, wrings the handle another time. "There's something I need to tell you. Nothing bad, I don't think, just really important to me."

She takes the porch steps. "If this is about you and Laurel, I don't care." She doesn't have the time or emotional energy to deal with what that brought into her life. She can't drink anymore, so she'd had about half a pizza when they'd confirmed that, of all the people in this godforsaken city, Wes and Laurel -- the girl so hung up on Frank that she'd called every day of summer and hid his location from Annalise -- the two quiet ones had decided to hook up. The very thought hits her gag reflex, and she tries cutting around him to get to the door. His bike blocks the path though.

"It's not. That's, that was just.... A lot was changing, and I thought that Laurel could help me with that," he explains. He scoots his bike aside and pulls the lock free. Not like he ever locks it outside anymore, he normally just brings it in the house and keeps it in the foyer. Busy hands mean a busy mind though. What's he thinking about? What's bothering him?

She gets the front door unlocked. "I take it she couldn't so you're here asking me for help." She pulls it open, and he walks on through with his bike in his hands. "So, what'll it be? Advice? Legal counsel?"

He keeps shaking his head before he stashes his bike and clicks the door locked behind her. She walks by him into the main house but doesn't bother with her shoes. It's nice to be in heels when Wes is around. Keeps her grounded and a bit closer to his level.

He answers her by saying, "A chance," which honestly answers nothing. He scratches at the stubble on his neck. A bit lengthy for someone who uses his facial hair as a sign of distress. He should cut it down again. Remind himself to breathe. She can tell Laurel to mention it. "Not professionally, or anything like that. I'm here because I'm happy that things didn't work out with you and Nate, or with me and Meggy, or Laurel even. I like this. You. A lot actually. More than I probably should."

A lot more than he should if he's waiting outside her door at eleven pm. And she loses her words somewhere deep in her throat, has to chortle a bit to find any and only manages to get out his name.

"Wes?"

He wrings his hands again before dropping them to his sides. "I don't want to move in, but I do want to see you. I want...." And his sigh, his wants and wishes bubble out of him through flared nostrils and parted lips. Eyes catch onto hers, and she can feel the strain in her lids from staying open too wide and too long. Feel the way her ribcage fights against the expansion it so wants to take. She can't do this. She cannot be the same person that Frank is, that Sam was. She cannot be with her students, or her colleagues, or anyone else who makes her life more complicated than it already is. She doesn't need this.

But then Wes smiles in the corner of his lips. And that little smile widens to take up damn near his whole face. And this warmth settles into his eyes like maybe she's everything he's been needing all these months that he's been looking for something else. Like maybe he could fill these new spaces inside of her, and give her a reason to keep working on closing the others.

He says, "Come to dinner with me."

She laughs. "Now?" He nods. "For what?"

But the time and the incredulous way she talks to him does nothing to stop that smile of his. "To eat. To get to know me--"

"Boy," she waves her hands to stop him right there, "I've spent the last year getting to know you. What do we need dinner for?" And she doesn't mean anything forward by the question; she's asking. 

He says, "So we can get out of this house for once, and we can see if there's something here or...." He shrugs, and a bit of that warmth fades. She feels it in her chest like a candle snuffing out. "Or if I'm just crazy enough to think there is."

She'd eaten half a pizza at the thought of him with another woman. At the thought of someone who might be able to understand the dark parts of him in a way that maybe she couldn't herself. Sure, she's got a lot of baggage, but if these other women weren't right, then who was? And if someone almost tailor made to match her scars couldn't stand her, then what hope did she have for anyone else to? But maybe she hadn't needed to worry herself with all that. Maybe she'd only needed to wait until he realized why they kept circling each other the way that they do.

"You're not crazy," she tells him. "But I already ate." It's not a no, but she doesn't have the right words to illustrate that.

He hears her right. Offers up, "Dessert then. There's an amazing gelato place -- you've probably already been there. You've lived in this area longer than me. I'll stop talking, and follow your lead."

"Smart boy," she says. He beams at her. Turns to unlock and open the door up once again.

As they walk through, he says, "You know I've got a pretty good teacher."

Annalise scoffs. "I hear she's overrated."

That warmth's back in his eyes once she glances up at him.

"Not to me."

"Hush. I'm already going out with you. No need to butter me up."

Then his eyes spark, like the thought isn't completely unwelcome. She turns away with her tongue against her cheek and a little sway to her hips. There might be a few things worth knowing about him after all.

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